


Another Reason Not to Move

by ERNest



Category: Company - Sondheim/Furth, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Depression, Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ERNest/pseuds/ERNest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He figures out why she's so bitter all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Reason Not to Move

There’s nothing useful Remus can do in this country which has made it very clear they don’t want his kind. And probably they’re right and he’s too dangerous, but he’d like some respect when they tell him what jobs he isn’t allowed to take.  
Dumbledore has always been sympathetic to his situation, so he sends him on a liaison mission. “Now I know how unstable those American wolves can be, but if you think you’re up to it, I’d like you to make sure they’re still on our side.”  
“I’m your man,” he says, grateful to get away from everything for a bit. “Or, you know. Half a man.”  
“Remus,” the headmaster answers seriously, looking over his half-moon glasses. “You are every inch a man and don’t you dare forget it.”  
“Yes sir,” he mumbles.

So the proper letters are sent and the heads of several packs are contacted. They agree to meet at a bar instead of renting a conference room. The casual approach suits their personalities well. He has still never been a tee-shirt and jeans kind of person, so he wears his nice suit jacket, even though it’s shabbier than he’d like.  
It’s been a long trip, not that anything out of the ordinary happened. He’s just a little tired, but he didn’t realize until he walked into the door exactly how much he needs a drink. “Rum and Coke,” he says and sits down to wait.  
The man next to him slumps across the bar. It’s early for that, he thinks, but he’s not one to judge. “And so I feel like I’m only halfway there, but what can I possibly do to show her how she matters? It’s like she expects something from me and I’m not good enough to even know what it is.”  
“Graham, you’re incredibly attractive, but you’re also an idiot. No one’s all the way here and if anyone is ever really satisfied by another person, the world is a much different place than the one I’ve lived in for over forty years.”  
The woman who says this is beautiful in a haughty sort of way, but that’s not why he notices her. There is a cold fog he recognizes well creeping from her vicinity. The dementor is so close to her, it’s a wonder she’s not dead. It’s also a wonder that he didn’t see it right away, but her personality completely overshadows its presence. She doesn’t seem bothered at all, and actually seems to be thriving on the clouds of depression emanating from it.  
There’s only one thing he can do to help, so he’s glad he always has extra bars in his pocket. “Would you like a piece of chocolate?”  
She manages to look startled and judgmental at the same time. “Excuse me?”  
“It’s going to make you feel better, I promise. You’ve got a dementor stalking you.”  
“Do I now? I’m not surprised; everyone wants me, but who is a dementor?”  
“Um, no. They’re a magical creature, responsible for sucking away every good feeling you have and replacing them with all your worst memories.”  
“No, no,” she corrects, “That’s vodka.”  
“Well, yes,” he admits, “That certainly doesn’t hurt. But you _also_ have a magical soul-sucker following you.”  
To his surprise, she smiles or grimaces cheerfully, which he didn’t think was possible before. “I had no idea there was something tangible to explain this. Perfect.” She holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Joanne Stough-Kensington-Atwood, but you can call me Jo.”  
“Oh right! I’m Remus J. Lupin. I’m glad I could help.”  
“No, not you,” she says impatiently. I want to meet my dementor. Can you point him out to me?”  
“I don’t think they have sexes, really, but anyway you’ll want to move your hand up a little and to the left.” He can’t believe he’s doing this and he cringes at the sight of the cold clammy hand gripping Joanne’s, but she seems happy enough about it.  
“I think I’ll call him Rodney.”  
“ _What_? No one names dementors!”  
“After my first husband. It’s a fitting legacy, trust me.”


End file.
